


The Future Starts With You

by Jamcub



Category: Portal (Video Game)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-08
Updated: 2016-11-14
Packaged: 2018-08-29 20:57:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8505133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jamcub/pseuds/Jamcub
Summary: Chell finds a familiar ball of metal in her yard. Finding his battery almost run out, they return to the only place that can offer help. Will Chell regret her decision (again)?Set in the Portal/HL universe, with references to post-war Earth.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> "I’m sorry.  
> I was bossy… and monstrous. And I am sorry. Genuinely sorry. And I am not just saying that because I was stranded in space for decades. Honest.”

Weirder things had happened, that much was for sure. Chell had seen stranger things, deadlier things, things that threatened her life and mental stability. After her escape from Aperture, she had been glad to see nobody seemed to want to bother with her on the outside - here, she was just another human going about her daily life. She’d put the cubes, turrets and puzzles of the past behind her - more or less successfully, mind you. Yes, she did sometimes wake up from a nightmare involving darkness and the pungent smell of acid sludge, and sometimes she could have sworn she heard the tell tale noise of a turret activating just around the corner.

But it could have been worse, all things considered. Really, she could have been perfectly happy as she was, despite all the strange things that she had come across in her life. Chell was content to forget the past and move on. Really.

The fact stranger things had happened to her did, however, nothing to make this situation any less awkward. She’d left the house to tend to her garden, a hobby she had picked up soon after moving in, and found that something was already there.

Not something, really, rather… someone. The thing was round, about the size of a beach ball, and charred black, as though someone had been holding this thing over a flame. Chell approached cautiously, although a voice in the back of her mind told her there was no point to it. She’d seen that thing before… but how-

All Aperture technologies remain safely operational up to 4000 degrees Kelvin.

Her voice rang through her head, making her pause briefly. She extended an arm, poking the shape that had, as she noticed, burned a strip into her lawn. Her brows knit. It couldn’t-

“Hey! Could you… could you pick me up?”

Her hand flinched away from the thing. This had to have been the strangest, most improbable of all coincidences yet. Her eyes narrowed, and she moved a little closer.

“Hey! You! Smelly human- I mean. Not smelly. Lovely, I’m sure. Great! Tremendous. Especially those… hands.” The accent was unmistakable, and Chell’s breath hitched in her throat. This was impossible, she had to be dreaming… her fingers brushed over the charred hull of the personality construct she’d known as Wheatley. He seemed to try and swivel his faceplate around, his singular, cracked optic catching a glimpse of her face.

“AAAAH! You… you look…” He paused, trying to wiggle his handles. “...you look familiar. Bloody -”

Chell grabbed the topmost handle, pulling him up and around so he could look at her properly. He made a small noise of distress, but then seemed to settle into her grip. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I know you. Then again, it’s been a long time… bloody long. Been stuck in space so long, thought I’d never come back.” His optic narrowed. “Still. You… remind me of someone. Especially the whole... you not saying a word. Not a word. Not a peep. Silent.” Wheatley shook his faceplate. Chell noticed he seemed to be fine, save for the fine layer of soot that covered him. Chell wiped over his optic, which he commented on with a soft beeping noise.

“...whoa there! Careful, you don’t want to break anything.” He twitched a little, apparently still trying to sort out who she was. Chell drew in a sharp breath. She should want to toss him over the fence and pretend like she never saw him, of course, but… 

She grabbed him by the handle and returned to the house, locking the door before setting the core on the kitchen counter. Of course, he got soot all over, but she hardly cared, grabbing a towel to wipe off the excess dirt. Wheatley swiveled around, trying to take in as much of the room as possible.

“Lady! Lady, you sure have a lovely house! Very… house-y. I don’t know what’s considered nice to humans, of course. Never been out of that place, never ever been told neither! Nobody tells me anything.” He shook his faceplate again when Chell tried to wipe off his ‘face’. The crack in his optic seemed to have gotten worse, now neatly parting the two halves of his eye. She briefly wondered if this was the reason he took so long to recognize her.

“Anyway, I still haven’t gotten a name from you.” He finally concluded, his cracked optic trained on her and she balled up the towel and tossed it into the hamper in the corner of the room. She didn’t have a real kitchen, mind you, just a room that served both as that and a place to put her washing machine.

“I’m Wheatley. Nice to meet you.” He enunciated each syllable, speaking louder in hopes of getting through to her, without a doubt. “Who are you, lady?”

Chell sighed, fetching an apple from the basket in the counter. She held it up to Wheatley, who turned his face, the shutters on his optics narrowing a little. “...apple? Your name is Apple?” Nervous laughter. “Ah… hello, Apple. Nice to meet you! You’re the uh, strong and silent type, I can tell already, and th-”

His optic snapped open, realisation washing over him. “Lady? Lady? Say… say apple.”

Chell jumped, laughing a little. It was shaky, yes, and the memory didn’t really do much to make her smile, yet… Her hands suddenly moved, and Wheatley tried to follow the movements. “Uh… yes. Hands. Very helpful! I can’t… can’t read that dialect, though. Might want to try something else, lady.”

Chell shook her head. She picked up a pad and a pen, scribbling something on the paper, then turning the pad to show it to him.

“‘My name is Chell’. Ah. So you do have a name! And you are... not actually brain-damaged! What a relief. I’ve been worried about that ever since…” He trailed off, his eyes shuttering slowly. “...about that. Actually. Been meaning to tell you a thing. Really important, so please… listen.”

Chell nodded, resting an arm on the counter. The core in front of her moved his handles a little, the metal clunking against each other softly.

“The part where I tried to kill you… the whole thing. With the potato… and trying to take over the facility. I have to tell you… 

I’m sorry.

I was bossy… and monstrous. And I am sorry. Genuinely sorry. And I am not just saying that because I was stranded in space for decades. Honest.” His handles moved straight up, and his faceplate swiveled around once. “So. There. I said it. Had enough practice, too. Couple years … hard to tell, really. It all ends up being the same after a while, up there.”

He paused, briefly, his optic narrowing. Chell hadn’t said anything - well, given any kind of affirmation, really - so he seemed unsure. She nodded, shoulders moving up, and he continued.

“As I said. Very sorry. And uh, I have no idea where that other core went, either. He didn’t come back here with me, unfortunately. Unless, uh, unless you’ve seen him. And didn’t tell me. Which would be very rude. Not that I’m calling you rude, or anything.”

He shook his faceplate again. “I’d never do that… again, that’s my point.”

Chell sighed, turning to open his pantry and take out a plate, then a second one. Shaking her head, she put the second one back, and leaned down to open her small fridge. Wheatley craned his faceplate to see what she was doing, commenting on her actions.

“Ah! A … a plate. Yes. Very important, I’d imagine. You need this unless you want to get food all over the bloody table. Which I’d imagine would be kind of awful, now that I think about it.

Never had to use one myself. Being a robot, I run on batteries. Speaking of, these might be going out soon. Not meant to be in space for so long… might want to check that out.”

Chell, who had been preparing food, nodded. She’d have to figure out just what he ran on, and then probably replace that. But that was a topic for a different day, one where she wasn’t wondering whether taking in the robot that had tried to murder was a smart idea.


	2. Vitrification Order

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have the ext few chapters all set up, which also unfortunately means I can't edit much in terms of lenght. Somehow, this is only 800 ish words long. I apologize.
> 
> I put a surprising amount of thought into this whole battery thing back when I wrote this a year ago. I think.

Today, Chell talked for the first time in ten years.

Wheatley fit snugly into her lap, and she’d rest on him and scribble out the story of her leaving Aperture, through what seemed to be an endless expanse of a wheat field, until she discovered just where she had ended up. Having her own story read back at her in a distinctly British accent that she connected with running for her life had a strange kind of edge to it, and several times she had to pause before she could continue.

Wheatley narrowed his optic when she told him about what had happened to the world since they had both been gone, and his voice hitched a couple times when he read her small, tidy handwriting. But he didn’t stop until she was finished, after which he swiveled his optic around and stared at her.

“A war?” He inquired, his faceplate twitching and sparking. Chell nodded, slowly. Wheatley made a scoffing noise, apparently not believing her story. “ ...ah… that… sounds a bit far off. Doesn’t look very war-like out here.”

Chell sighed, scribbling something out on the paper.

“‘It’s been years. Society restarted.’ Ah, yes.” Wheatley snorted (at least she thought it was a snort, anyway). “Makes sense, yes, I understand.” His faceplate rotated slowly, as though he were rolling his one available eye. Chell raised a brow; she did not like that he apparently didn’t believe her as she spilled her heart out to him. Which was exactly what she was doing, she realised with a pang that settled uncomfortably into the pit of her stomach. Her hands, still holding the pen and notepad, shook a little. The whole weight of the situation came crashing down on her like a Metal Crusher, and she set her things on the side, moving Wheatley off her lap. 

His faceplate swung around, and his shutters narrowed to mimic human confusion. From here, Chell could see the crack running through his optic, more pronounced than ever. It clearly and cleanly separated both halves of the optic, and Chell briefly wondered if it impacted his vision at all. Wheatley scoffed.

“Not my fault what you say sounds like … like a tall tale! Nothing I’d believe, honestly. Sorry, but. Uh. Not falling for that old trick. I‘m too smart for that.” His handles waggled a little, and he appeared to attempt to shimmy closer; with little success, Chell noted. She excused herself and got up, leaving the room to drag a very much worn sweater and a blanket out of the wardrobe in her bedroom. Wheatley waited, now both confused and mad that she left.

“Society. Restarted. Sure. Why not.” He muttered to himself, incredulously. Being honest, though, the reason he was so put off was that, well... she wouldn’t need him out here. She’d hardly needed him inside, and out here… He swivelled around and tried to force the unpleasant thoughts out of his mind when Chell returned with a sweater and her blanket. “I’m sorry, that was mean. Shouldn’t have said that. But, er... “ He tried to adopt a pleading look, which was harder than he thought it’d be with only a single eye and a faceplate. “I am sorry. Very. I shouldn’t treat you like that, really.  
And I won’t. That’s past me. I am very-”

His entire body seemed to freeze suddenly, leaving him stock-still and rigid. Chell leaned over, confused, tapping his shell. Wheatley seemed to retract into himself when he heard a voice he had hoped he wouldn’t have to hear for a while yet.

 _Warning. Battery below five percent charge. Charge immediately. Power Management System activated_.

When Wheatley moved again, his optic had dimmed, now a dark blue spot on black, and he appeared to shiver in his casing. Chell was confused.

“I am - love. I’m fine. Just… I have to recharge, that’s all. It’s been awhile since I did that, yes, and … I need to. But that’s easy!” He nodded, his core sparking a bit as he did so. “Just… plug me into the wall, would you.” Wheatley’s backside was a port, large and round, and Chell found that none of the ports in her house actually, well. Fit him.

“Oh.” His voice was lower than usual, likely to conserve power as much as possible. “I… oh. Hm. This is a problem.” Ignoring the very quiet, very scary voice that told him his battery was nearing depletion, he straightened a little and looked at Chell.

“Now. I … I don’t want this about as much as you don’t, probably, but…. we…”

_Warning. Battery critically low. Charge immediately._

“Love. Listen. This is important. There is only one place in the world that can charge me back up, and - we both know where it is.”

Chell’s face immediately hardened, and Wheatley was reminded of the day he woke her up from her slumber. The same determination from back then lined her features, and he had to take a moment before he could continue. When he did, his optic flickered.

“Chell. We have to go back.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually a little older. My turn on a humanoid Wheatley and the hows and whys of him getting there. WAs supposed to be shorter but hey what do you know. Now it's this.
> 
> I've posted this on my tumblr before, but I thought I might as well re-do some bits of it and brush it up and put it here as well since it is a multichapter fanfic. Why not. Rated it T since that's the games' rating, I am pretty sure? Correct me on that.


End file.
